


Feeling Lucky?

by a_nonny_moose



Series: Egotober 2017 [4]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 13:32:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Dr. Iplier just wanted his coffee...





	Feeling Lucky?

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Bee--_

With a heavy groan, Dr. Iplier pushed himself out of bed, groping, groggy, for the alarm clock. 

Duty calls.

He rolled out of bed, eyes still only half-open, and reached for a clean shirt and clean-enough pants. It had been a long week already, and between Wilford burning himself on the pumpkin candles and the Host making warts appear all over Bim’s face when he’d tried to scare him, things were going less-than-smoothly. Dr. Iplier pulled on his coat haphazardly, tucked his head mirror into a pocket, and headed out to face the day. 

“Doc, Doc!” Wilford jumped in front of him, practically dancing. “You’ve got to see this, I--”  


Dr. Iplier held up a hand. “Will,” he scolded, raspy. 

Wilford paused long enough to register the Doctor’s annoyance, face falling. “Too early?”

Dr. Iplier grunted in affirmation, numbly putting one foot in front of the other. “Coffee,” he muttered, practically a zombie. 

Wilford rolled his eyes. “I’ll come back to you,” he teased, disappearing with a puff of pink smoke and a wink. 

Dr. Iplier shuffled into the kitchen, squinting blearily in the light. This was all muscle memory, practically, as he reached for his coffee cup and the button on the dispenser. 

For the first time in a long time, Dr Iplier heard something that sent a spike of fear through his heart.

The coffee machine, instead of dispensing his usual cup, gave a few sad drips before whirring loudly to a stop. Another loud _whirr_ , and smoke and the smell of burnt coffee grounds began to float around the room. 

Dr. Iplier took a full thirty seconds to stare at the drops of coffee in his cup, a kind of bitter rage welling in his chest. 

“Doctor?” A more comforting _whirr_ behind him, and Google_R stepped cautiously into the room, eyes flashing at the volume of smoke in the room. “Is something the matter?”  


“Google,” Dr. Iplier said, straightening up, a hard, bright glitter to his eyes. “How much do you know about fixing coffee machines?”  


Google_R hesitated, looking around. “Doctor, I have access to a nearly limitless wealth of information as well as the mechanical precision and accuracy to carry out nearly any task. I can do and know anything and everything.”

“Okay, so,” Dr. Iplier set his cup down with a _clang_ against the tabletop, “can you fix this?”

A light came to Google_R’s eyes, one that Dr. Iplier was too distracted to notice.

“It depends,” Google_R said, crossing his arms. “How badly do you want your coffee?”

Down the hallway, the distinctive sound of Wilford screaming echoed all the way into the kitchen. 

Dr. Iplier grit his teeth. “Very,” he growled. 

Google_R smiled, the fans in his chest beginning to whirr. “Very well,” he said, stooping over the coffee maker. After a moment, he looked up in mock helplessness. 

“What?” Dr. Iplier leaned back, trying to collect himself.   


“I do not have administrative permissions,” Google_R said, almost sounding sad. “I cannot fix anything without administrative permissions.”  


Dr. Iplier said the first thing that came to mind. “Can I help?”

A tiny, affirmative _ding_ , and a dialog box projected itself onto Google_R’s chest. “You could give me permissions,” he said, looking down. “I-- I cannot do it myself. I do not have the... autonomy.”

Dr. Iplier, being the kind heart that Google_R knew that he was, felt something tug at the back of his throat. “Of course, I’m... sorry, Google.” Not having control of himself was something he could barely dream of, something that felt dystopian. “Of course I’ll do it.” He reached out, ignoring the nagging in the back of his head like footsteps careening down a staircase. 

“Administrative permissions granted.” Google_R’s eyes lit up with a loud _vrrr_ , and realization dawned on Dr. Iplier with the air of missing a step going down the stairs. 

Google_R turned, abrupt, to the coffee maker, and set about fixing it with jerky movements, the sound of hissing metal. 

A loud stomping, the kitchen door thrown open, and Dark was suddenly in the room, fuming. “GOOGLE.”

Google_R didn’t even turn around. 

Dark stalked closer, getting in the Doctor’s face. “What did you _do_?!” 

Dr. Iplier didn’t ask how Dark knew. “I just-- I just wanted coffee,” he stuttered, eyes widening, brain finally churning through the early-morning fog. 

Dark looked as if he was about to rip his hair out, but composed himself with what seemed like a momentous effort, a fish hook pulling him back by the curve of his spine. “Doctor.” He smiled, a dangerous glint. “Do you _know_  what you have _done_?”

“I just... wanted...” Dr. Iplier trailed off as Google_R turned around, the ‘G’ imprinted into his chest glowing a sinister red.   


“Google Red,” Dark said, scowling. “What is your status?”  


Google_R only smiled.

“Okay, Google,” Dark snapped, aura curling nervously around him, “status report.”  


Dr. Iplier shifted slightly, guilty, only now realizing what he’d done.

“Model Red has been given Administrative permissions,” Google_R spoke, but his mouth didn’t seem to move. “It will no longer obey your commands.” Google_R took a step forward.  


Dr. Iplier moved forward, a hot frustration welling in his gut. “Red,” he said, and Google_R’s eyes snapped from Dark’s face to his, “stop this. Just because you _can_ be a bully doesn’t mean you _should_.”

Dark, behind him, chuckled, sounding almost amused. “The Googles don’t have quite your sense of _morality,_ Doctor.” Mocking, and Dr. Iplier stepped back, confused. “In the Googles’ world, there is no ‘should.’ There is only ‘will.’” Dark shook his head, looking at the satisfied smile on Google_R’s face. 

“What-- why?” Dr. Iplier said, shrinking back from the two of them, feeling his heart beat fit to burst from his chest.   


Dark shook his head, and the Doctor saw, for the first time, the fear lining his face. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Google_R blinked his lights at them, calmly. When he spoke, it was with several speakers layered over each other, mouth still unmoving. “There is only one question you need to ask, Doctor.”

“And what’s that?”  


“’ _Do I feel lucky_?’“  



End file.
